By Mrs. J. D. Young.

Air—“The Yellow Rose of Texas.”

The morning star is paling, the camp-fires flicker low,
Our steeds are madly neighing, for the bugle bids us go:
So put the foot in stirrup, and shake the bridle free,
For to-day the Texas Rangers must cross the Tennessee.
With Wharton for our leader, we’ll chase the dastard foe,
’Till our horses bathe their fetlocks in the deep blue Ohio.

Our men come from the prairies rolling broad, proud and free,
From the high and craggy mountains to the murmuring Mexic’ sea;
And their hearts are open as their plains; their tho’ts as proudly brave
As the bold cliffs of the San Bernard, or the Gulf’s resistless wave.
Then, quick! into the saddle, and shake the bridle free,
To-day with gallant Wharton we cross the Tennessee.

’Tis joy to be a Ranger! to fight for dear Southland!
’Tis joy to follow Wharton, with his gallant, trusty band!
’Tis joy to see our Harrison plunge, like a meteor bright,
Into the thickest of the fray, and deal his deadly might,
Oh! who’d not be a Ranger, and follow Wharton’s cry!
And battle for their country, and, if needs be, die?

By the Colorado’s waters, on the Gulf’s deep murmuring shore,
On our soft, green, peaceful prairies, our home we may see no more,
But in those homes our gentle wives, and mothers with silvery hairs,
Are loving us with tender hearts, and shielding us with prayers.
So trusting in our country’s God, we draw our stout good brand,
For those we love at home, our altars and our land.

Up! up! with the crimson battle flag, let the blue pennon fly;
Our steeds are stamping proudly, they hear the battle cry!
The thundering bomb, the bugle’s call, proclaim the foe is near:
We strike for God and native land, and all we hold most dear.
Then spring into the saddle, and shake the bridle free,
For Wharton leads, thro’ fire and blood, for Home and Victory.